


Accidental Discovery

by firefright, Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, No actual daddy kink, Secret Relationship, Surprise Sex, Tags May Change, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 18:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18299966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: “Jason,” Dick says slowly, a little dazed as he straightens back up from retrieving Jason’s phone after accidentally knocking it down onto the carpeted floor of his safehouse, “Why do you have Slade Wilson’s number saved on your phone under the name ‘Daddy’?”





	Accidental Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this one sort of came out of nowhere, but we're having a lot of fun with it. Hope you enjoy!

“Jason,” Dick says slowly, a little dazed as he straightens back up from retrieving Jason’s phone after accidentally knocking it down onto the carpeted floor of his safehouse, “Why do you have Slade Wilson’s number saved on your phone under the name ‘Daddy’?”

Jason’s standing at the stove, stirring a pot of chilli when he asks the question, so Dick has a clear view of the way his spine goes suddenly rigid.

“What… what did you just say there, Dickiebird?” he replies. Buying time, Dick thinks, by pretending not to have heard him properly.

“Slade Wilson,” he says again, “His number’s on your phone. Under the name _Daddy_.”

The spoon falls from Jason’s hand to hit the side of the pot, and when he turns around, there’s a distinct wildness to his eyes as he asks, “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about. Slade Wilson’s number. Why the fuck would I have that?”

In response, Dick holds up the phone with the screen facing forwards to show him.

He hadn’t meant to look. Really he hadn’t. But Jason had left it unlocked, and when he picked it up… well, there the number was. Completely unmistakable in origin.

“That could be anyone’s number.” Jason says, weakly.

Under other circumstances, Dick might have been kind enough to leave it alone. To let this new, slightly alarming discovery of Jason’s kinks stay undiscussed between them, but not… not with this person. Not with _Slade_.

“But it’s not,” he says, unyielding, “It’s Deathstroke’s. It’s…” Fuck, his stomach is already doing uncomfortable flips on him, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to be more pissed at by the end of this; himself, Jason, or Slade. “Jason, are you… are you _sleeping_ with him?”

Jason’s mouth falls open. Shuts. Opens. He raises a hand, points his finger, then curls it back again. Every passing second feels like an age between them as he struggles to find a way to explain it, and Dick is practically vibrating for Jason to find some means of reasonable denial. For this to be anything but what he thinks it is.

Then something in Jason's expression pinches. His eyes narrow.

“How do _you_ know what Deathstroke’s private number is?”

Alarm bells start ringing in Dick’s head, pointing out that he may not have entirely thought this through. If indeed, he thought about it at all before blurting out the words at all.

_Shit_.

“Jason,” he tries to continue, “That’s not what’s important here, I need you to—”

“Oh no, no it certainly is important, Dick,” Jason growls, “If you’re going to go accusing me of doing _that_ with Slade, you first of all owe me an explanation of how the hell you’re able to recognise his number on sight. Under a completely different name, no less.”

It’s at times like this Dick wishes he had Barbara’s excuse of an eidetic memory.

“ _Daddy_ , Jason. You have him in there as _Daddy_.”

“Still not answering my question!”

“Well, you’re not answering mine, either!” Dick shouts back, “Look, Jason, either you can give me a straight answer or… or…” he searches for a suitable threat, “I can call this number right now and ask him myself.”

Jason’s eyes widen, and he takes half a step forward before apparently thinking better of it. Dick watches as he clenches his jaw and bunches his hands into fists at his sides. He almost begins to hope he’s won, except that Jason — never one to give in that easily — then chooses to respond to the threat not by backing down, but by escalating it.

“Fine,” he says, “Call him then. But only if you put the phone on loudspeaker first.”

Dick spends exactly two seconds contemplating how awful a situation that would be before blurting out, “No!” at way too high a volume.

“Then give me back my phone and keep your nose out of my private business, asshole!”

Jason makes a grab for the phone, but Dick jumps back, staying out of his reach as he shakes his head. An action which only serves to make Jason angrier, as he immediately makes another lunge, chasing Dick around the room.

“Give me back my phone, Dick!”

“Not until you answer my question!”

“It’s none of your business, give it back!”

“It is my business when it’s _Slade_ , Jason!”

“Give it back to me now or I swear I’ll kill you, you hypocritical piece of—!”

Dick runs out of room to dodge before he can finish, and a particularly violent charge from Jason finally sends them both toppling down onto the floor. Now wrestling for control, Dick yelps as his hand slips on the phone, and Jason doesn’t miss the opportunity to grab it back from him, immediately rolling away from Dick the moment he has the phone in his grasp.

They end up glaring at each other from opposite sides of the room. Dick rubbing his ribs from when Jason’s knee had knocked into them, and Jason shielding the phone screen protectively with the palm of his hand.

“Why is Slade’s number on your phone, Jason?” Dick asks tiredly again.

“Why do you know his number by heart?” Jason shoots back, still unwilling to budge an inch.

This approach really is getting them nowhere, he realises. One of them is going to have to give, and damn it, Dick knows it’s probably going to have to be him. Otherwise they’ll be stuck doing this all day.

That’s if Jason doesn’t just straight up kick him out of the apartment first.

Shoulders sagging back against the couch behind him, Dick groans before answering.

“Because sometimes we have sex together, okay?! That’s why.”

“... holy shit,” Jason says in response, even though he must have already guessed it giving how hard he’s been pushing for Dick to answer. “Holy shit, holy shit... oh my god…”

“Jason,”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“ _Jason_.”

“You’ve had sex with Slade! And I…” his eyes go wide, his face pales, and there’s all the confirmation Dick needs. “God, I can’t believe I’m having sex with the same person _you_ are.”

Dick winces. Somehow he doubts Jason’s issue with that knowledge is due to any promises of fidelity Slade made, and more to do with the fact it’s him. Slade does not make promises. Well, not those kinds of promises anyway. Death and destruction, yes. Sexual acts, yes. Monogamy, no.

“You’re not the only one in shock here, you know,” he says, trying not to sound offended and largely failing.

Jason laughs, high-pitched and a little hysterical. “Why?” he asks, “Upset at knowing you’re not so special after all, boy wonder?”

“At least I’m not the one calling him daddy.” Dick glares back.

The colour comes back into Jason’s face at once, blood red and vulgar.

“Fuck you, Dickface!” he snarls, squaring his shoulders, “It’s not like that. I just… it was a _joke_.”

“A joke.” Dick repeats, doubtfully.

“Yes! Because he’s a dad! And hot, like… y’know, a DILF. It wasn’t meant to be like…” Jason looks visibly pained at being forced to explain, “You know what? Fuck you. I don’t have to explain anything to you, Dick, and I definitely do not have to keep talking to you about this. Conversation cancelled, get the hell out of my house.”

Bizarrely, incongruously, the very first thing to pop up in Dick’s head in response to that is, “But the chilli!”

He’d come by for real reasons, yes, but Jason had been just starting to put together something for lunch, and he’d been promised food if he stuck around and talked out the case. This _thing_ might have thrown everything sideways but he’s still hungry, and he’s been smelling that chilli for the last half hour. He was looking forward to it.

That does not make it any more of an appropriate reaction, which Dick is fully aware of only after it’s left his mouth.

Jason makes an appropriately incredulous noise. “You do not get to accuse me of having some kind of _daddy_ kink and still expect me to feed you. If you really wanted that, maybe you should have kept your nose out of my business!”

“It was open!” Dick complaints, “It’s not like I hacked your phone and got into your contacts or something. It just fell, turned on, and the number was _right there_ when I picked it up.” He blinks, something else dawning. “It was... right there. That means.... You were _just_ talking to him, weren’t you? Oh my god, have you been talking to Slade _while_ I was here?”

“No,” is the first word, and Dick is relieved for just a fraction of a second before Jason follows it with, “I am not answering any more of your questions. Out, right now, or so help me god, I will throw you out.”

It is really questionable whether Jason is capable of that, but Dick doesn’t think he is currently willing to have a destructive wrestling match in the middle of Jason’s safehouse, just to try and force him to answer things that Dick probably doesn’t actually want to know anyway. A strategic retreat sounds good, for now.

Sighing, he holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

"Good." Jason snaps, still cradling the phone in his hands with its screen held protectively to his chest. He makes absolutely no move to do anything but watch as Dick backs towards the door. Glares at him the whole way.

Rolling his eyes would probably only infuriate Jason more, so he holds back. Even though he finds all this a little ridiculous. Ridiculous, and a little horrifying, and he would very much like to know what Slade thought he was doing.

Oh god, no, no he doesn't. He can't even imagine how terribly asking _that_ would go.

Grabbing his jacket from the table next to the door, Dick opens it, and gets exactly half of the way through stepping out into the hallway beyond before he freezes in place.

Talk of the devil. _Slade_ is leaning up against the opposite side of the corridor, smirking, and looking completely unsurprised to see him. Dick finds it suddenly very difficult to breathe.

“What the hell are you—?”

Jason cuts off as suddenly as he did, somewhere at his back, while Slade chooses that moment to push off the wall, strolling forward into the apartment without any apparent care. It’s back up or get run over, so Dick automatically chooses the first option because his body is at least partially working, even if his mind is in a full-on, screeching halt, train crash. Jason makes a choked noise when Slade walks inside, takes the door, and shuts it behind him.

“Nice conversation,” he drawls, lifting his other hand to show the phone. Open call, ‘Jason’ across the top in blocky letters which could be generic except that Dick knows the number under _that,_ too. “Might want to be more careful when you’re struggling, boys. Could have been anybody listening in.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Jason says with feeling. Quiet, and Dick forces his head around enough to find him staring at his phone. He can’t see what it looks like, but he can definitely make a good guess.

Open call: ‘Daddy.’

Slade ends it, tucking the phone away into the pocket of very civilian looking jeans. “You might want to get your chilli before it burns, kid.”

Dick twitches, thinking for a second that Slade is talking to him, but then Jason makes another choked noise and rushes towards the kitchen area. Dick shakes off the feeling of being addressed, and takes a slow step back from Slade. Maybe just a little space, this time. Normally he doesn’t feel the need to have a good couple arms’ lengths between them, but right now he is definitely feeling that.

Slade looks at him like he knows _exactly_ what’s in Dick’s head.

“How much did you hear?” Dick blurts out, realizing suddenly that it needs to be asked, and Jason is vehemently stirring the pot on the stove and turning off the heat so he’s not likely to be the one to say something.

“Oh,” Slade says, with a low laugh that does things it absolutely should not to Dick’s stomach, “more than enough.”

There’s a clatter from the direction of the kitchen. “Look, Slade,” Jason tersely begins, “Whatever you heard Dick say, I don’t—”

“I don’t care about what kinks you may or may not have, Jason,” Slade says evenly, “Though if you are ever inclined to experiment, all you need to do is ask.”

Jason’s face floods red again, to the extent that it’s a wonder there’s blood left anywhere else in his body. Dick never knew he was inclined to blush so easily. But then again, he’s never exactly been in the position to find that out before either.

Reluctantly, Dick drags his gaze away from him, back to Slade. “What are you doing here?” he asks, because no, he’s not naïve enough to think that Slade actually just _happened_ to be standing around outside Jason’s apartment. The phone was on for maybe one or two minutes, not nearly enough time for Slade to show up unless he was already here, right?

“Dick—” Jason says, warning, but Slade’s already speaking over him.

“Just stopping by for some fun. You know how I work, Dick. We’ve had enough times together.” A dangerous smirk, as Slade takes one of the seats at Jason’s little table and sprawls backwards into it. “We’re very familiar with each other.”

It’s Dick’s turn to flush, arms crossing over his chest as his teeth set together. “Slade, that’s not—”

“Then again,” Slade interrupts, not letting him speak either, “Hard to say which of you I know better. I’ve got so much…” Slade curls the word around his tongue, drawing it out. “ _Experience_ , with both of you.”

Jason whirls on them, stalking over. “Okay, you know what? Fuck off, Slade. I _told_ you not to come up here.” He reaches down, maybe looking to shove Slade backwards or tip the chair or something. “You can’t just—”

Slade moves in a flash, grabbing his wrist and twisting it to bring Jason to his knees, dragging him close with all the speed that he doesn’t usually show. Doesn’t need to. Jason sucks in a sharp breath, tries to pull against it way too late, but Slade’s already dragging him into his lap. Dick jerks, takes a step forward, but then Slade’s got a hand hooked under Jason’s throat and he’s pinned up against him, back to his chest. Dick flounders, watching Slade’s fingers compress over Jason’s throat, watching him arch and shove his feet against the ground.

Dick _just_ catches the murmured, “Easy, kid,” that Slade says right into Jason’s ear, low and rumbling and way too familiar of a tone.

Jason’s cheeks are just as red, his throat working under the press of Slade’s fingers and his head pinned back against one shoulder. But the hand that Slade doesn’t have captive is grabbing at Slade’s thigh, digging fingers into the cloth there. That’s a very open side, and Jason has more than enough leverage to slam a truly painful elbow into Slade’s side, if he wanted to, regardless of the enhancements.

But he doesn’t.

Slade presses his lips to just under Jason’s ear, letting go of his wrist but only to wrap his arm around his chest instead, pinning the arm in against his side and getting a better angle to drag him further up. Jason’s eyes are shut, teeth gritted and bared, but Slade drags him further into his lap, knees manipulating Jason’s legs until they’re spread over his own, and Dick can _just_ see how Slade’s ankles hook around to prevent him from closing them again.

The shudder that takes Jason then is hard, and Dick forces himself to swallow and shift forward, meeting the way Slade is looking at him with a narrowed, knowing eye. “Slade, let him go. You don’t need to do this.”

“What am I doing?” Slade asks, mocking, smirking past the shell of Jason’s ear.

“You _bastard_ ,” Jason gasps, just a little breathless. “I don’t—”

“ _Hush_ ,” Slade orders, and Jason goes very, very still. “Stay right there, boy. I’ve got something to talk about with your older brother.”

“He’s not—”

Slade’s fingers tighten, and Jason gets cut off, his head shoving back against Slade’s shoulder just to keep his breath. Slade hasn’t looked away from Dick, and he finds his own breath coming a little harder. There’s something terribly dangerous about all this, and Dick can’t decide what the nervous energy in his veins is. Anticipation, fear, or desire. It’s all too similar to the feeling he gets diving off the top of a building, feeling the free fall take hold of him and then, finally, catching himself on the line of a grapnel.

He has no idea what ‘catching himself’ is going to look like, here.

“Slade,” he starts, warning and placating all at once. “Come on. We can do this without you holding him like that. Let go, we’ll talk out… whatever this is.”

“Whatever it is?” Slade repeats, and Dick’s breath catches _hard_ when the hand not busy with Jason’s throat slides down and cups Jason’s groin. Jason jerks, moans and then catches himself and strangles it, but the whole line of him tenses and arches and trembles.

_Christ_.

“What?” Slade says, past his smirk. “Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you sometimes, ‘golden boy?’”

Dick stalls, grinding to a stunned halt. Jason… looking at him? Like, _looking?_

Jason chokes out a protesting sound, his fingers digging at Slade’s thigh. Maybe it’s just the self-preservation talking; Dick wouldn’t want to hit Slade either unless he had a very immediate plan for afterwards, and probably at least one layer of armor. Surely that’s all it is.

“That’s not funny,” Dick says, but it sounds weak even to him. He swallows, drags his gaze away from the slow rolls of Slade’s hand against Jason’s groin, tries to focus on Slade’s face and nothing else. He’s _not_ going to look at the shaky pattern to Jason’s breathing, the way his fingers are clenching and releasing on Slade’s thigh, or the little upwards flex of his hips.

“Did I sound like I was joking, kid?” Dick flinches slightly at the term. “Why don’t you come feel for yourself?”

Dick swallows. “I’m not—”

Slade’s fingers flex around Jason’s throat, drawing a choked moan from him. Dick cuts off. Then they let go, sliding back and tunneling into his hair instead, shoving his head up. Jason’s flushed, Slade’s fingers tightening in his hair to keep his head elevated, facing Dick. His eyes are shut, but a little jerk of Slade’s hand makes them slide open.

There’s a moment where Jason’s eyes meet his, heated and lidded. It drops, drags down across the length of his torso. Then Jason shivers and closes his eyes again, whole body rolling into a small arch, head pressing back into Slade’s grip.

Dick can’t find any words. He can’t… His breath is sharp, strained, and he hasn’t done a thing. But the way Jason looked at him, how he’s lying there and not saying anything, just letting Slade… Manhandle. Manhandle is a damn good word for it.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Slade coaxes, saying it into Jason’s ear, fingers tugging slightly down on the hair that he has between his fingers. “You can pretend, boy, but the only person here that doesn’t know how badly you want _Dick_ is him.”

Jason groans, teeth baring again. “Fuck off,” he grits out, but even that’s laden with desire. Trembling, around the edges.

Slade laughs, squeezing down on Jason’s crotch and dragging a louder moan from him, hitching near the end when he bites down on it. “Never been good with words, this one. Alright, Jason. How about, if you _don’t_ want Dick to come over here and wrap his hand around your cock, you just say so? One little no, and that’s it.”

Jason shudders, but he… he doesn’t say anything. His teeth stay gritted, his eyes closed, and he’s… silent.

Dick feels sharp heat pour down his spine.

Slade looks up at him, sliding his hand off Jason’s crotch despite a protesting whine. He makes a small, inviting gesture. “That sounds like an answer to me. What do you think, Dick?”

He thinks… He thinks this is a terrible idea, but Jason hasn’t stopped them. Hasn’t protested, even when Slade gave him the explicit opportunity to. And god, the way he looked at him. _Stared_.

Slowly, as if he’s being controlled by someone else, Dick feels himself moving forward. Slade says something into Jason’s ear, this time quiet enough that Dick can’t even begin to hear it, and Jason’s eyes open. It’s only a short distance, so it feels like Jason’s barely gotten his eyes open before Dick is coming to a stop in front of him. He hovers there for a second, at the side, and then Slade grunts and hefts them both sideways, twisting the chair away from the table. Jason gasps, but they stay stable.

Slade’s legs part, and Jason’s legs are forced wider along with them. Not as wide as they could be, which Dick knows from having watched some of Jason’s workouts, but wide. He’s just wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, but with Slade’s hand out of the way Dick can see where his cock is rising against the fabric. He knows… He’s never _looked_ , but the cave showers are communal and it’s hard not to catch glances sometimes, after long, shared patrols. He knows that Jason is pretty decently sized. Proportional, really, to his height and the muscle on him.

He takes a last step forward, into the invitation of those spread legs. He’s looking down, then, at a better angle to see Jason’s face now that it’s been pulled back against Slade’s shoulder again. Eyes closed once more, but there’s a tension in his shoulders and his expression that suggests that he knows Dick is standing there. Slade, on the other hand, is watching him. Waiting for him to do whatever he’s going to do.

For a second he stays poised there, on the very edge of either doing something, or stepping away and leaving. Just… getting the hell out of this situation and not maybe ruining his entire relationship with Jason.

He breaks.

His hand lifts, tracing along Jason’s cheek as he leans down. But he stops there, as Jason’s eyes open and their gazes meet. He stills.

“Jason,” he starts, and then has to take a second to find his words. “If you don’t want this, just say something. At any point. I’ll stop.” He takes a breath, turns his head just enough to look at Slade. “I’ll stop him.”

It’s definitely a promise, trying to stop Slade from doing whatever he wants, but Dick makes it anyway. He will. If Jason genuinely doesn’t want to do this, he will fight tooth and nail to make Slade stop. Maybe he won’t win, but he’ll try.

But he can’t imagine Slade genuinely refusing to listen. Slade plays a lot with power, but every time that Dick has refused him and really meant it, he’s stopped. Just because he usually refuses to take no for an answer when he’s harassing, coming uninvited into safehouses or whatever, doesn’t mean that he takes that same refusal to listen into the bedroom. Slade’s never done anything to him that he didn’t want, and he has to assume the same is true for Jason.

Jason, who takes a small breath, and then suddenly is grabbing at his shirt with powerful fingers. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and Dick finds himself yanked down into a kiss.

He has to force himself to balance, hands spreading out over things he can’t even identify as he half-falls into them. The chair creaks alarmingly, but Jason’s grip on his shirt won’t let him back up, and he doesn’t find himself wanting to get up anyway.

Jason’s mouth is hot, tongue aggressive as it shoves its way between his lips, bringing with it a sharp hint of spice. Maybe the chilli, if he was testing it, but Dick shoves that wondering part of his mind aside and just enjoys it. He’s fine with the aggression, fine to play more or less any angle his partner wants as long as he’s making sure they’re having a good time, but then suddenly Jason jerks slightly and makes a sound remarkably like a whine into his mouth, tongue slipping away. Dick breaks just enough of the kiss to look over and see Slade’s mouth against his neck.

He swallows, sense-memory reminding him what it feels like to have Slade’s mouth against his own throat. Wet, hot, with enough teeth to bite if things are falling towards the rougher side. He’s very, very familiar with the scratch of that beard too, though his best memories of it are in more… intimate areas.

The thought makes him shiver slightly. He dips his head to the other side to get away from that sight, pressing his lips to the other side of Jason’s neck. Softer, probably. He doesn’t know what Jason likes, except that apparently he liked Slade all but wrestling him into the seat. (Dick can relate, a little. He’s had more than one fun adventure with Slade pinning him down, or even just with his arms twisted up behind his back.)

Jason gives a breathy sound between them that feels like a plea. Dick, now that he has his balance, carefully eases a hand away from where it’s braced and slides it down the front of Jason’s chest. His fingers pass over Slade’s arm on the way there, but he doesn’t linger even though he slightly wants to. He’s always liked wrapping his fingers around the sheer _size_ of Slade, arms or cock or the muscles of his back. This time, though, he has a different goal in mind.

His fingers drag along the shirt, and he finally comes to the waistband of the pants that Jason has on. He’s tempted, for a second, to slide his fingers right in underneath, but he stops. Too forward, too fast. Instead, he just follows the last bit of that distance and wraps his hand around the jut of Jason’s cock. He gets an immediate shove of hips up into his hand, and Jason moans.

Slade hums approval on the other side of Jason’s neck, and a few moments later Dick feels fingers tunnel into his hair. He thinks they’re Slade’s, for a second, before he registers that the grip on his shirt is gone and the fingers are too small.

Jason’s fingers slide through his hair, tightening and pulling just a little in _just_ the right way. Dick makes a pleased sound of his own, and pushes back over to drag Jason into another kiss. This time, he’s the one to slide his tongue into Jason’s mouth. Jason groans, fingers scraping over his scalp, hips rocking up into his hand.

“That’s it, boys,” Slade says, to the side. Low, rough. “Don’t the two of you make a pretty picture.”

Dick feels Jason twitch in his hand, and mentally ticks off Jason having the same enjoyment of praise as he does. He wonders how many of those things Slade’s compared, for however long he’s been sleeping with them both. How many times has he laughed at those things? Dick can absolutely imagine Slade being amused, seeing something in one of them that’s like the other and being tempted to say something. Only he never did.

This isn’t the time — fuck, this is _so_ not the time — but Dick starts to wonder why Slade didn’t say anything. Was it to try and hold onto them both? Some sense of decency? Slade’s never been exactly subtle, and ‘decency’ can be hit or miss.

Jason scrapes teeth over his tongue, jerks at his hair, and Dick loses track of his thoughts. He lets Jason break the kiss this time, pulling his neck into a small arch and immediately going at it. He grunts a little at the dig of teeth into the side of his neck, but he breathes out and sinks into it, welcoming the low ache. Slade chuckles, knowing that he likes a little pain, even if Jason may not. Not always, but if that’s what Jason wants, Dick is happy to sign up.

He leans his weight a little heavier into the two of them, and the chair creaks again, a little louder this time. Jason immediately goes rigid.

“Fucking Christ,” he hisses, mouth still all but pressed against Dick’s throat. “Do not break my chair.”

Dick laughs then, unable to help it. He _has_ broken furniture before. Mainly with Kori, but Slade has definitely broken at least one bed with him and then utterly refused to acknowledge it beyond a considering ‘Huh.’ It wasn’t his bed, thankfully.

“Maybe we move this somewhere more comfortable, boys?” Slade suggests, voice rich and low and promising. It’s not phrased like an order, but the tone he says it in makes Dick generally willing to do just about anything he wants anyway.

Besides, a bed or at least a couch would definitely be a better idea.

Being on top, he’s the first to pull away. Jason’s reluctant to let go, but does after a couple moments. Dick steps back to make room, admiring the spread arch of Jason’s body, over Slade. At least until Slade lets his pins go, nudging Jason off him with a roll of one shoulder. Jason staggers finding his footing, almost drops to a knee, but catches himself before Dick can even finish stepping in to steady him. Their eyes meet, though, and they stay locked as Slade stands as well.

There’s something just a little unsure in Jason’s gaze, something that Dick understands because he feels that same slight hesitance. At least, he assumes it comes from the same place; wondering if Jason is really, truly doing this because he’s interested, or just because Slade is asking.

He should fix that.

He lifts a hand, sliding his fingers back into Jason’s hair as he twitches, tilting into the touch, and stepping closer to lean up as he tugs Jason down. It’s only a couple inches, not like the difference when he kisses Slade, but it’s just enough to make him feel it. Always a sensation that he’s liked.

Jason’s hands touch his sides, first gentle and then firming, pulling his waist closer as the kiss deepens. Dick makes his approval known with a soft moan, wrapping his other arm up around Jason’s shoulders, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. He’s definitely not Slade, but Jason has size and mass, and Dick can absolutely appreciate it. Dick’s always appreciated strength.

Dick slides his other hand up Jason’s chest, feeling the outline of it underneath the shirt, enjoying his imagination filling in the blanks of just what it’ll look like. Whatever he thinks, whether he’s staring or whatever, Slade doesn’t interrupt. Dick finally pulls back, keeping his grip on Jason’s hair to keep him close, to hold them close enough that when he opens his eyes, Jason is more or less the entirety of what he can see.

Just after, Jason’s eyes flicker open as well, and his tongue slides out to wet his lips, a huff of breath coming between them. Dick smiles.

“All right?” he asks, quiet.

Jason can interpret that however he likes, but Dick means it as an all-encompassing question. Is Jason alright with them kissing, doing this, this whole situation? Is he feeling alright? (Did he like the kiss?)

Jason breathes out a little more heavily, and then dips his head in a small nod. The, “Yeah,” is softer than anything else Dick’s heard from him tonight.

He takes one more small kiss, barely more than a brush of their lips, and then pulls away. He turns his head to find Slade, and gives the same nod that Jason gave him. Slade’s gaze is sharp, but only in a studying way. His nod matches theirs, and then he closes the last bit of distance between them all. Close enough that Jason turns towards him, head tilting back to look right at him. Something sets into his posture. Challenge.

Dick’s starting to get an idea of what drew Jason to Slade; he’s always met every challenge Dick’s ever thrown at him. Overwhelmed him, sometimes (most times), but whenever Dick’s in the mood for that he never disappoints. If Jason’s more heavily into that dynamic of it than he is, Dick can completely understand the draw to Slade. Though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t understand the draw even without that component.

The challenge is good, but what Dick’s always liked best about Slade is the complete lack of judgment. It doesn’t matter what he likes, what he doesn’t like, what kind of state he’s in when things start, Slade just goes along with it. Sometimes even now, but mostly at the start of this whole arrangement, he was absolutely using Slade as an escape from his problems. It was a way to drown in physical sensation, and just for an hour or two forget everything else on his shoulders.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, and Slade had to have known what he was doing. What he still does, sometimes. But there was never a word. That was really, _really_ nice.

Not getting judged about how you cope definitely makes the coping more effective.

Slade laughs, lifting a hand and grabbing a fistful of Jason's hair, jerking it hard enough to make Jason stumble forward into his chest. “Easy, boy,” Slade murmurs, ignoring the hand that's grabbing at his shirt. “Don't want to scare your brother off, do you?”

Jason immediately scowls. “He's _not_ my brother, you asshole.”

Somewhere in Dick's chest that stings, but he brushes it aside. In this, Jason's right to draw that distinction. Not that Dick thinks Slade would care if they were actual brothers, in any meaning of the word. It's not judgment, just a way that Slade knows he can get under Jason's skin and get a reaction. Slade's always been fond of weak points, or any reactionary buttons he can find to press.

“No,” Slade starts, proving his point without even knowing about it by looking to him with a drawled, “That would be _wrong_ , wouldn't it?”

Dick lifts an eyebrow, cocking his weight to one side and refusing to give whatever it is Slade's looking for. “You're fucking two men half your age,” he points out, as flat as the fact it is.

Jason chokes on a sudden, loud snort. “He’s got a point.”

Dick can see the way Slade’s mouth twitches, too, only briefly, with displeasure at him interrupting his narrative, before it’s all smoothed over under the same confident smirk as always. His fingers tighten further in Jason’s hair.

“Well, that’s never been a problem to _me_.”

Jason gasps, at the pull, as Slade pulls his head up to kiss him, then bite and suck at his lip. The heat in Dick’s belly, which had started to ebb for a moment there, suddenly comes roaring back full force at the display.

“Now,” Slade says, giving him a knowing look as Dick swallows thickly, “I believe we were moving somewhere with a little more room?”

“Bedroom,” Jason chokes out, before anyone else can say anything. “Bed—”

Slade doesn’t waste any further time before striding in that direction, still using his grip on Jason’s hair to guide him. A little jelly-legged, Dick follows, stumbling after them down the hall and into the first room on the right.

Jason’s room is just as he expected it to be. Tastefully decorated, and neatly kept, with the bedsheets properly made and tucked in at the corners. A very far cry from his own, but thoughts of his slovenly homelife only distract Dick for a second before he’s focused back in on Jason and Slade.

At the foot of the large double bed, in what must have been only seconds before Dick himself stepped into the room, Slade has used the grip he has in Jason’s hair to push him down onto his knees and hold him there.

Damn, that is… Dick swallows. That is certainly a sight to see.

“Come here, Dick,” Slade says, smugly, as he beckons him with one hand. “Unless, of course, you just want to stay over there and watch?”

Tempting, but no. Dick’s never been very good at just standing by and watching, as much as he sometimes likes to be looked at himself. He wants to get in close and touch. _Feel_ everything there is to feel, especially in the wake of this new revelation between him and Jason.

A few quick steps and Dick is next to them. His hand reaches down to touch Jason’s hair, too, far more gently than Slade, and for a brief second he has the pleasure of looking into Jason’s wide open, slightly glazed eyes, before a rough hand grabs his chin and he’s turned into a kiss by Slade.

“You want him to suck your cock?” Slade asks, when the kiss is broken, and it’s so bluntly said that the weakness returns to Dick’s knees all over again. “Answer me, boy; do you?”

He does, _god_ he does, but he wants a lot of things. What he doesn’t know is what _Jason_ wants, and he’s finding that a lot more important right at this moment than whatever plan Slade has for how this is all going to go. Whatever this is with Jason, it’s new, and Dick doesn’t like the idea of going into it with only Slade’s commands to guide him. This isn’t just his enjoyment at stake, it’s Jason’s.

Dick swallows but forces his breathing to steady, lifting his free hand to wrap around Slade’s wrist. He tugs it away from his chin, holding Slade’s gaze as he demands, “Don’t get drill sergeant on me, Slade. If there’s something you want to see, why don’t you ask for it?”

Slade blinks, looking just slightly caught off guard by his resistance. Before he says anything else, Dick lets go of his wrist and takes a step to the side to sink down on his knees next to Jason. A pass of his fingers into Jason’s hair gets Slade to release his grip, and lets him turn Jason’s head his direction. Dick studies the haze in his eyes, the part to his mouth, as he brings his other hand up to cup his face. Jason shudders.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in and presses a soft kiss to Jason’s jaw. “You with me, Jay?”

Jason takes a small breath, gaze focusing on him a little more evenly. “Where the fuck else would I be?”

The rough tone quirks the corner of his mouth up in a smile. He steals a brief kiss, fully enjoying the way Jason leans into him to try and chase it. “Tell me what you want, Jason,” he orders, stroking his fingers over Jason’s scalp and getting a low groan from him. “Anything you want.”

The catch in Jason’s breath is audible. “I…” He stalls, staring. “Jesus. Are you serious?”

From above them, Slade snorts. Dick ignores it.

“Yeah, I'm serious.” He lowers a hand to take one of Jason's, interlacing their fingers and leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Just tell me what you want.”

Jason's fingers squeeze his, inhalation shaking a bit. His eyes are wide, expression fluctuating between shock and something more like panic. “Fuck. I— I don't know? Everything?”

“Everything might take longer than we have,” Dick teases. “How about just one thing, to start?”

Slade reinserts himself into the conversation with a small chuckle, stepping up to Jason's back and drawing Dick's attention with a pass of fingers through Jason's hair. They settle at the back of his neck. “You think he's going to be able to pick just one fantasy? Boy's got a whole collection.”

Dick narrows his eyes, studying the lazy amusement in Slade's gaze. (Exactly how long has Jason been interested in him? And how long has Slade known about it?)

Jason flushes. “Fuck off, Slade,” he chokes out, ducking his head away from both of them to press into Dick's shoulder. Dick runs his fingers up through Jason's hair without thinking about it, cupping the back of his head.

“He's actually into more than you are,” Slade continues, ignoring the protest. “Want me to take you on a tour?”

Heat frissions up Dick's spine at the thought, making it his turn for his breath to catch. Yes, he absolutely wants that, just like he absolutely wanted Jason's mouth, probably guided by Slade's fist. But, again, he makes himself refocus. What he _wants_ , is to pay attention to Jason, and if Jason can't make the choice of what to do, Dick thinks he's got some pretty good options. He's never lacked for ways to make his partners feel good, and cared for.

He holds Slade's gaze, but tilts his head to speak into Jason's ear. “How about, the both of us get up on that bed, and I get my mouth on you, Jay? That sound like a good start?”

Jason's fingers go tight around his, and suddenly his other hand is grabbing at Dick's side, tugging on a fistful of his shirt. "Jesus _fuck_ ," he breathes, voice shaking. "Yes. Yes."

Looking down at him, Slade gives an approving nod through the curl of his smirk. Dick wasn't looking for his approval, but he can't deny that it feels good anyway, having Slade look at him like that. It always has.

"Alright, then come on. Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> [Skali's Tumblr](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Firefright's Tumblr](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


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